


Bullets and Roses- Evermore

by addict_with_a_pen



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Funeral, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, blood tw, death tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24096259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addict_with_a_pen/pseuds/addict_with_a_pen
Summary: after the death of marvin the magnificent, his family must learn to move on
Relationships: oc/ego
Kudos: 3





	Bullets and Roses- Evermore

**Author's Note:**

> tie-in to the fic @graveyard-jay wrote based on our rp thread on tumblr.

It had been three weeks. The calendar on the wall seemed to laugh at her every time she saw it. She debated tearing it down just to make it stop, but she knew what Henrik would say.  _ You are being irrational, bowing to such trivial impulsivity will only make it more difficult to adjust. We are all heartbroken, but life does not stop for us… _

She tore it down anyway.

The calendar may have said three weeks, but for all she knew it had been three hours. It still hurt, the pain in her chest just as raw and unforgiving as it had been when it'd first hit her that he would not come home again. She still woke up in the dead of night sometimes, crying and cradling the empty air where her closed eyes had shown her a body,  _ his  _ body, painted in harsh strokes with the bright and uncaring red of his own fading life. She saw it pooled on the ground beneath him, coating her hands, soaking through the fabric of his clothing and hers; its bitter scent even found its way into the back of her throat and stuck there, clinging on defiantly until she felt she would surely drown in it. On nights like that, she often would not go back to sleep, but lay awake as thoughts she couldn't control raced around her head.  _ Could have stopped it… my fault… should have been me… _

Jamie had told her it was all they could do to try and move on.  _ He wouldn’t want us to grieve,  _ he’d signed as he’d given her a long, warm hug after the funeral. When they’d gotten back to Jackie’s, she’d noticed him glancing forlornly at the door, as if he still expected it to open and his brother to walk in.

Jackie had told her not to blame herself.  _ There was nothing you could have done,  _ he’d said as he’d squeezed her hand on the car ride home, her head resting on his shoulder. That evening she’d heard his muffled crying and shouting behind the locked door of his room, furious at himself for being too weak to have prevented it.

Henrik had told her it was better this way.  _ He is at peace now,  _ he’d said as he’d wished her goodnight, his eyes fixed on something far away. He’d gone to bed many hours later, still muttering vainly to himself about spliced timelines and vindicated mistakes.

Chase had told her not to think about it too much.  _ Don’t lose yourself in the dark,  _ he’d said as tears filled his eyes and fell onto his shirt when they’d visited the cemetery the next day. Later that night he had lain numbly on his sofa, drowning out his despair the only way he knew how. 

Anti had told her there was nothing to be done.  _ People die sometimes,  _ he’d said as he’d stood with his arms folded while she knelt down to place a bundle of roses on the grave. He’d stayed there for a long time after she’d gone home, staring at the headstone with a silent, solemn expression, standing vigil til sunrise as his own way of acknowledgement. 

She knew that although every single one of them was right, none of them believed their own words. It simply wasn’t enough to be right, not when the reality of it felt so wrong. 

She knew that Jamie wouldn’t ever fully believe that he was gone. She knew that Jackie would always harbor resentment towards himself because he felt he’d failed his job to protect his family. She knew that Henrik would drive himself mad with regret every night, haunted by the fact that it had been  _ his  _ decision that led to this, and that there was nothing, no science or cure, that could fix it. She knew that Chase would wallow in a black cloud for who knew how long, doubting if it was even worth the effort to keep going. She knew that Anti, cold though he was, would quietly wonder whether this was really what was  _ meant  _ to happen, whether maybe somewhere, somehow, someone had made a mistake. 

She stared at the ceiling, feeling all of this and nothing. She was so absorbed by it that she didn’t hear the quiet knock on her door. Not the first time, nor the second, nor the third or fourth. The fifth time, she blinked slowly and wondered through a haze if it was her imagination. She pulled herself sluggishly out of bed, her wings dragging limply behind her as she moved to the door. 

_ Darkness there, and nothing more,  _ she thought foggily to herself.  _ Quoth the raven, nevermore…  _ She expected to see nothing but the night as she opened the door, the star-studded sky above overrun with wispy clouds and muted moonlight.

_ Darkness there, and nothing more. _

_ Darkness there, and nothing more. _

_ Darkness there, and something more… _

A spectre at her doorstep, with glassy eyes and grey skin, a bundle of roses dripping from his hand and faded life dripping from his heart. 

_ “Come back with me?”  _

This she would, for evermore. 


End file.
